Thorntangle
First Post
Great update! Well worth the the bloated budget. I guess now they'll never complete their quest and Cal will have to go back to the nether-worlds 
Travels through the Wild West: the Isle of Dread
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Hey readers--
Was going to do an April Fools Post, but since I just killed a MAJOR CHARACTER (well, semi-major) I decided to restrain myself. D'oh! Besides, our mods are yukking it up enough for all of us, I think! Anyway, here's post 32, and I'll have 33 (the FINAL post of Book III) up in a few days.
LB
* * * * *
Book III, Part 32
The companions gathered in grim silence around the body of their fallen companion. Dana and Delem had been restored by healing magic, but none of them felt fully whole in the face of the death that had once again taken one of them. Two, really, as Varrus’s body had been claimed by the mud, but none of them had truly felt a sense of connection to the abrasive and selfish sailor. Ruath had also been standoffish, even curt, but somehow her taciturn nature had not been able to keep her from truly becoming one of them. Cal seemed particularly hard hit, as he had made repeated efforts to break through the halfling woman’s tough shell and find out what sort of person she was inside. They could all remember times when her spells had dragged one of them back from the brink of death, and how, despite her cynicism, she was always at the forefront of any confrontation, not shying from foes many times her size. They thought of the summoned badgers she’d often call to their aid, and the jokes Benzan had made about those otherworldly but very welcome allies.
And now, she was gone.
Rather than remain exposed on the flat shelf of stone out in the middle of the cavern, they’d hastily healed Dana and Delem using Dana’s wand, and then retreated to one of the terraced ledges that Benzan identified along the far wall of the place. There were three such terraces that they could see, one to the west, one to the north, and one to the south. They’d gone west, in part because Benzan thought he could see a dark opening in the cavern wall at the back of the topmost ledge. They’d brought Ruath’s body with them and made their way up to that opening. They were alert for any more signs of additional kopru, but apparently there had only been the pair dwelling in the place, for there were no other attacks or attempts at mental domination. They reached the western terrace safely, and found a natural passage that twisted back into the stone. They traveled only far enough in to find a sheltered alcove just off the main passage, and set up camp there.
They had spent a wary and uneasy time resting there, recovering their magic and resting from the ordeal that they had just been through. And now, as they gathered again over the body of their fallen companion, they faced more questions—and more choices.
“Well, it seems that we have at least one answer to the many questions we had about Ruath,” Cal said grimly to his friends. The light of their lamp—a crude device fashioned from a metal cup and some of the oil left in Lok’s bag of holding—cast a flickering pall of his features and those of his companions. They had studied additional light spells, but wanted to save those for when they inevitably had to set out once again.
Cal held out a fist, which opened to reveal a small silver pin. Even in the bad light the ensign that the pin was shaped into was obvious and instantly recognizable to the companions. A silver harp was set inside a slivered moon, with four stars forming a diamond around it.
“Ruath was a Harper?” Delem said with amazement. As they thought back to what they knew of the woman, though, it seemed to make sense in retrospect.
“Apparently so,” Cal said. “She told me, once, a little bit about her mission. She was sent to meet with some powerful individuals that she didn’t name, down in Chult. Whatever the purpose of that meeting, she felt it was very important.
“Important enough to die for?” Benzan asked.
“Apparently so,” Cal said. “In any case, we can’t judge her, or her motives, since we know little of them.”
“What should we do… I mean, with her body?” Lok asked.
“I suggest we bring her back with us,” Cal said. “Perhaps, if we can return to Faerûn in time… Dana has prayed for a spell that will preserve her, at least for a few days.” He didn’t have to explain further; they had used a similar spell to preserve Cal’s body when he’d been killed by the cleric of Cyric in Elturel.
Elly sat a short distance away from them, her head bowed. She had been disconsolate ever since the end of the battle, when a healing spell from the wand had restored her to consciousness. In their retreat and during their rest she’d hardly spoken, and now seemed consumed by a deep depression that hung over her like a cloud.
“Elly,” Benzan said. The young woman didn’t stir.
“Elly,” Benzan repeated, more forcefully. She looked up, and saw that all of them—all of her companions—had gathered, behind the tiefling.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“Well, we need to talk about it,” he said. “It’s not your fault she died, Elly. You were controlled by those things—just like Lok, and Varrus.” His face darkened slightly at the memory, and although his friends had not laid any blame for his actions on him, Benzan had discovered during their rest that what had happened between him and Varrus could not be put aside so easily. In particular, two pain-filled eyes and a single desperate plea hovered at the edges of his mind, and he suspected they would not fade soon.
“But…” she started to say.
“No, Elly,” Benzan interrupted her. “We all cared about Ruath—for all she tried to keep us at arm’s length, she was a friend and an important member of our company. But she’s dead, and the rest of us are still living. If we’re going to get out of here, we need to bind closer together, fight together to get free of this damned place.”
She met his eyes, and then lowered her head. She nodded, and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks as Benzan wrapped her up in a supportive embrace.
* * * * *
They remained a little longer in the alcove, before setting out again. Benzan wanted to go back briefly to the cavern, to scout out the terraces that they had bypassed. They were reluctant to return to that place, but Benzan seemed strangely insistent. For a moment they even feared that he was being influenced again by other kopru, but a test by Dana revealed no evil presences about him. Even Benzan couldn’t give a clear reason why he wanted to return, but he said that he had a “feeling” that there was something important that they were missing. If any of the others noticed that his hand clutched on the hilt of his sword when he said it, none of them said anything.
They returned to the site of their confrontation with the kopru. The cavern seemed unchanged from before, with the same roiling mud and geysering water amidst the stone pathways and massive pillars. They passed the spot where the kopru had slain. Benzan cast a single wistful glance where the second creature had died. His magical scimitar was gone, lost somewhere under the mass of boiling mud.
They first examined the southern terrace, but found only a pool of boiling water with edges encrusted with calcium deposits. As they made their way up to the northern terrace, however, Benzan suddenly took on a focused look.
“There’s something up there,” he said quietly.
“What? An enemy?” Cal asked.
“No, not a foe,” the tiefling replied. “Something metal.”
The gnome looked at him cryptically, but didn’t challenge him. They pressed on up the tiered ledges, until they reached the top level high up along the wall of the cavern. The view was quite impressive, but they’d already lost whatever sense of wonder had initially accompanied their arrival into this place.
The ledge was dominated by a large rock formation that vaguely resembled a throne, situated directly under a long dangling stalactite that thrust down like a dagger from the ceiling high above. As they drew closer, however, they saw that the stone object was a throne, a massive stone chair hewn out of solid blocks of granite. And sitting in the throne…
“It’s a skeleton!” Dana exclaimed in surprise.
The others approached cautiously, and saw that Dana’s observation was accurate. Seated in the throne, facing out into the cavern behind them, was the heavily encrusted form of what had once been a man. At least the collection of bones looked human, although whatever details might be gleaned from the skeleton were masked by untold ages of accumulated minerals that had dripped down from the stalactite above.
“I wonder who he was,” Cal said to no one in particular, his eyes seeing the lost tales of ancient glories that might reside in the ancient figure left here to face the silent passage of the ages. “What are you doing, Benzan?” he asked, as the tiefling moved to the front of the throne.
“There’s something here,” he said. “I can sense it.”
The others gathered closer—keeping one wary eye on the skeleton as they did so—and saw what the tiefling had identified, a long straight object that was propped up against the front of the throne and was completely hidden in a thick white layer of calcium deposits.
“Careful, there might be a trap,” Cal cautioned, but by the time his statement was completed, Benzan had already grabbed the object and tugged it free from the clinging deterius that coated the throne and the area around it. Cal shrugged and threw up his hands—Benzan was Benzan. At least nothing seemed to happen when he finally was able to wrench his prize free. He held it up and examined it, then struck it against one stone arm of the throne. The blow resulted in a solid metallic clang, and as a large chunk of encrusted minerals came away they could all see that the item was another bronze sword, similar to the pair they already carried with them, marked with arcane runes down its length and carrying with it a sense of great age and latent power.
“How did you know it was there?” Delem asked him.
“I could sense it there, somehow,” Benzan said. “I think…” he paused, and glanced down at the blade at his hip. “I think the sword detected it, somehow.”
“Interesting,” Cal said. “Your weapon has a few surprises left in it, it would seem.”
“Maybe the weapons are linked, somehow,” Dana suggested.
“Well, we didn’t sense anything about the one that the chief of the tribesmen was using,” Delem said. Lok carried that weapon now, secure in his bag of holding. “Clearly there’s more to these swords that is evident at first glance. Perhaps we should be cautious with them, until we can identify them more thoroughly.”
The others nodded, but Benzan, who continued to examine the new sword, acted as though he hadn’t heard the comment. Finally, as the others watched him, he let the sword drop to his side. “All right,” he said, “We’ll take it with us, then, and check it out later.”
Cal, meanwhile, had cast a minor cantrip, and he continued to regard the sword with a look of concentration on his face. “It is magical,” he said, “though that’s hardly surprising I suppose, given that it’s so well preserved.” He gestured for Benzan to lift the weapon again, and the tiefling did so, holding it out before him. “Strange,” Cal finally added. “I can sense the typical aura of a magical weapon, but there’s something else as well… a potent abjuration.”
“Abjuration?” Elly asked.
“A school of magic that deals with various forms of protection,” Delem told her. Although his own use of magic was less scholarly than Cal’s—or even Benzan’s—he’d been learning, and his own spellcraft was rapidly advancing with each step of his own power in arcane magic.
“What sort of protection magic does the sword carry?” Lok asked.
“I don’t know,” Cal said. “As Delem said, we’ll have to wait until we can identify it more thoroughly. Until then, however, it might be better to keep it stored, rather than risk using it.” He nodded to Benzan, and the tiefling handed the sword over to Lok so that he could wrap it up for secure storage in the bag of holding.
While they were doing that, however, Cal’s attention had turned back to the skeleton, which had not reacted in any way to their retrieval of the sword. Delem, however, noted the gnome’s interest. “What is it?” he asked.
“I can sense another magical aura here,” he said. “It’s…” he paused, and closed his eyes briefly in concentration, “right there,” he finally said, pointing to one arm of the throne where one of the skeleton’s hands rested under a layer of white deposits.
“Well, let’s just see what it I then,” Benzan said. He reached up and started working at the spot with his dagger.
“So much for not being grave robbers,” Dana said dryly as the skeleton’s hand snapped free of its body.
“It’s a ring,” Benzan said, working it free of the skeleton’s hand and holding it up for them to see. It was a simple band of unmarked bronze, but they already knew it to be natural.
“What kind of magic does it possess, Cal?” Delem asked.
“Transmutation, I think,” the gnome reported after a few moments. “It could be many things—some of which could be quite dangerous. Perhaps we should store it safely away as well, until we get a chance to examine it more fully.”
“Here, Delem, I’ve already got a magic ring,” Benzan said, tossing it lightly to the surprised sorcerer. Delem barely managed to catch it before it fell to the slick ground, and he held it cupped in his hands as if it might try to bite him.
“Just keep it safe until we have a chance to test its power,” Cal said.
After a quick follow-up search of the area around the throne, which turned up nothing more of note, the companions retraced their steps and headed back down the corridor to the west, the light of one of Cal’s spells guiding their steps.
Was going to do an April Fools Post, but since I just killed a MAJOR CHARACTER (well, semi-major) I decided to restrain myself. D'oh! Besides, our mods are yukking it up enough for all of us, I think! Anyway, here's post 32, and I'll have 33 (the FINAL post of Book III) up in a few days.
LB
* * * * *
Book III, Part 32
The companions gathered in grim silence around the body of their fallen companion. Dana and Delem had been restored by healing magic, but none of them felt fully whole in the face of the death that had once again taken one of them. Two, really, as Varrus’s body had been claimed by the mud, but none of them had truly felt a sense of connection to the abrasive and selfish sailor. Ruath had also been standoffish, even curt, but somehow her taciturn nature had not been able to keep her from truly becoming one of them. Cal seemed particularly hard hit, as he had made repeated efforts to break through the halfling woman’s tough shell and find out what sort of person she was inside. They could all remember times when her spells had dragged one of them back from the brink of death, and how, despite her cynicism, she was always at the forefront of any confrontation, not shying from foes many times her size. They thought of the summoned badgers she’d often call to their aid, and the jokes Benzan had made about those otherworldly but very welcome allies.
And now, she was gone.
Rather than remain exposed on the flat shelf of stone out in the middle of the cavern, they’d hastily healed Dana and Delem using Dana’s wand, and then retreated to one of the terraced ledges that Benzan identified along the far wall of the place. There were three such terraces that they could see, one to the west, one to the north, and one to the south. They’d gone west, in part because Benzan thought he could see a dark opening in the cavern wall at the back of the topmost ledge. They’d brought Ruath’s body with them and made their way up to that opening. They were alert for any more signs of additional kopru, but apparently there had only been the pair dwelling in the place, for there were no other attacks or attempts at mental domination. They reached the western terrace safely, and found a natural passage that twisted back into the stone. They traveled only far enough in to find a sheltered alcove just off the main passage, and set up camp there.
They had spent a wary and uneasy time resting there, recovering their magic and resting from the ordeal that they had just been through. And now, as they gathered again over the body of their fallen companion, they faced more questions—and more choices.
“Well, it seems that we have at least one answer to the many questions we had about Ruath,” Cal said grimly to his friends. The light of their lamp—a crude device fashioned from a metal cup and some of the oil left in Lok’s bag of holding—cast a flickering pall of his features and those of his companions. They had studied additional light spells, but wanted to save those for when they inevitably had to set out once again.
Cal held out a fist, which opened to reveal a small silver pin. Even in the bad light the ensign that the pin was shaped into was obvious and instantly recognizable to the companions. A silver harp was set inside a slivered moon, with four stars forming a diamond around it.
“Ruath was a Harper?” Delem said with amazement. As they thought back to what they knew of the woman, though, it seemed to make sense in retrospect.
“Apparently so,” Cal said. “She told me, once, a little bit about her mission. She was sent to meet with some powerful individuals that she didn’t name, down in Chult. Whatever the purpose of that meeting, she felt it was very important.
“Important enough to die for?” Benzan asked.
“Apparently so,” Cal said. “In any case, we can’t judge her, or her motives, since we know little of them.”
“What should we do… I mean, with her body?” Lok asked.
“I suggest we bring her back with us,” Cal said. “Perhaps, if we can return to Faerûn in time… Dana has prayed for a spell that will preserve her, at least for a few days.” He didn’t have to explain further; they had used a similar spell to preserve Cal’s body when he’d been killed by the cleric of Cyric in Elturel.
Elly sat a short distance away from them, her head bowed. She had been disconsolate ever since the end of the battle, when a healing spell from the wand had restored her to consciousness. In their retreat and during their rest she’d hardly spoken, and now seemed consumed by a deep depression that hung over her like a cloud.
“Elly,” Benzan said. The young woman didn’t stir.
“Elly,” Benzan repeated, more forcefully. She looked up, and saw that all of them—all of her companions—had gathered, behind the tiefling.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“Well, we need to talk about it,” he said. “It’s not your fault she died, Elly. You were controlled by those things—just like Lok, and Varrus.” His face darkened slightly at the memory, and although his friends had not laid any blame for his actions on him, Benzan had discovered during their rest that what had happened between him and Varrus could not be put aside so easily. In particular, two pain-filled eyes and a single desperate plea hovered at the edges of his mind, and he suspected they would not fade soon.
“But…” she started to say.
“No, Elly,” Benzan interrupted her. “We all cared about Ruath—for all she tried to keep us at arm’s length, she was a friend and an important member of our company. But she’s dead, and the rest of us are still living. If we’re going to get out of here, we need to bind closer together, fight together to get free of this damned place.”
She met his eyes, and then lowered her head. She nodded, and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks as Benzan wrapped her up in a supportive embrace.
* * * * *
They remained a little longer in the alcove, before setting out again. Benzan wanted to go back briefly to the cavern, to scout out the terraces that they had bypassed. They were reluctant to return to that place, but Benzan seemed strangely insistent. For a moment they even feared that he was being influenced again by other kopru, but a test by Dana revealed no evil presences about him. Even Benzan couldn’t give a clear reason why he wanted to return, but he said that he had a “feeling” that there was something important that they were missing. If any of the others noticed that his hand clutched on the hilt of his sword when he said it, none of them said anything.
They returned to the site of their confrontation with the kopru. The cavern seemed unchanged from before, with the same roiling mud and geysering water amidst the stone pathways and massive pillars. They passed the spot where the kopru had slain. Benzan cast a single wistful glance where the second creature had died. His magical scimitar was gone, lost somewhere under the mass of boiling mud.
They first examined the southern terrace, but found only a pool of boiling water with edges encrusted with calcium deposits. As they made their way up to the northern terrace, however, Benzan suddenly took on a focused look.
“There’s something up there,” he said quietly.
“What? An enemy?” Cal asked.
“No, not a foe,” the tiefling replied. “Something metal.”
The gnome looked at him cryptically, but didn’t challenge him. They pressed on up the tiered ledges, until they reached the top level high up along the wall of the cavern. The view was quite impressive, but they’d already lost whatever sense of wonder had initially accompanied their arrival into this place.
The ledge was dominated by a large rock formation that vaguely resembled a throne, situated directly under a long dangling stalactite that thrust down like a dagger from the ceiling high above. As they drew closer, however, they saw that the stone object was a throne, a massive stone chair hewn out of solid blocks of granite. And sitting in the throne…
“It’s a skeleton!” Dana exclaimed in surprise.
The others approached cautiously, and saw that Dana’s observation was accurate. Seated in the throne, facing out into the cavern behind them, was the heavily encrusted form of what had once been a man. At least the collection of bones looked human, although whatever details might be gleaned from the skeleton were masked by untold ages of accumulated minerals that had dripped down from the stalactite above.
“I wonder who he was,” Cal said to no one in particular, his eyes seeing the lost tales of ancient glories that might reside in the ancient figure left here to face the silent passage of the ages. “What are you doing, Benzan?” he asked, as the tiefling moved to the front of the throne.
“There’s something here,” he said. “I can sense it.”
The others gathered closer—keeping one wary eye on the skeleton as they did so—and saw what the tiefling had identified, a long straight object that was propped up against the front of the throne and was completely hidden in a thick white layer of calcium deposits.
“Careful, there might be a trap,” Cal cautioned, but by the time his statement was completed, Benzan had already grabbed the object and tugged it free from the clinging deterius that coated the throne and the area around it. Cal shrugged and threw up his hands—Benzan was Benzan. At least nothing seemed to happen when he finally was able to wrench his prize free. He held it up and examined it, then struck it against one stone arm of the throne. The blow resulted in a solid metallic clang, and as a large chunk of encrusted minerals came away they could all see that the item was another bronze sword, similar to the pair they already carried with them, marked with arcane runes down its length and carrying with it a sense of great age and latent power.
“How did you know it was there?” Delem asked him.
“I could sense it there, somehow,” Benzan said. “I think…” he paused, and glanced down at the blade at his hip. “I think the sword detected it, somehow.”
“Interesting,” Cal said. “Your weapon has a few surprises left in it, it would seem.”
“Maybe the weapons are linked, somehow,” Dana suggested.
“Well, we didn’t sense anything about the one that the chief of the tribesmen was using,” Delem said. Lok carried that weapon now, secure in his bag of holding. “Clearly there’s more to these swords that is evident at first glance. Perhaps we should be cautious with them, until we can identify them more thoroughly.”
The others nodded, but Benzan, who continued to examine the new sword, acted as though he hadn’t heard the comment. Finally, as the others watched him, he let the sword drop to his side. “All right,” he said, “We’ll take it with us, then, and check it out later.”
Cal, meanwhile, had cast a minor cantrip, and he continued to regard the sword with a look of concentration on his face. “It is magical,” he said, “though that’s hardly surprising I suppose, given that it’s so well preserved.” He gestured for Benzan to lift the weapon again, and the tiefling did so, holding it out before him. “Strange,” Cal finally added. “I can sense the typical aura of a magical weapon, but there’s something else as well… a potent abjuration.”
“Abjuration?” Elly asked.
“A school of magic that deals with various forms of protection,” Delem told her. Although his own use of magic was less scholarly than Cal’s—or even Benzan’s—he’d been learning, and his own spellcraft was rapidly advancing with each step of his own power in arcane magic.
“What sort of protection magic does the sword carry?” Lok asked.
“I don’t know,” Cal said. “As Delem said, we’ll have to wait until we can identify it more thoroughly. Until then, however, it might be better to keep it stored, rather than risk using it.” He nodded to Benzan, and the tiefling handed the sword over to Lok so that he could wrap it up for secure storage in the bag of holding.
While they were doing that, however, Cal’s attention had turned back to the skeleton, which had not reacted in any way to their retrieval of the sword. Delem, however, noted the gnome’s interest. “What is it?” he asked.
“I can sense another magical aura here,” he said. “It’s…” he paused, and closed his eyes briefly in concentration, “right there,” he finally said, pointing to one arm of the throne where one of the skeleton’s hands rested under a layer of white deposits.
“Well, let’s just see what it I then,” Benzan said. He reached up and started working at the spot with his dagger.
“So much for not being grave robbers,” Dana said dryly as the skeleton’s hand snapped free of its body.
“It’s a ring,” Benzan said, working it free of the skeleton’s hand and holding it up for them to see. It was a simple band of unmarked bronze, but they already knew it to be natural.
“What kind of magic does it possess, Cal?” Delem asked.
“Transmutation, I think,” the gnome reported after a few moments. “It could be many things—some of which could be quite dangerous. Perhaps we should store it safely away as well, until we get a chance to examine it more fully.”
“Here, Delem, I’ve already got a magic ring,” Benzan said, tossing it lightly to the surprised sorcerer. Delem barely managed to catch it before it fell to the slick ground, and he held it cupped in his hands as if it might try to bite him.
“Just keep it safe until we have a chance to test its power,” Cal said.
After a quick follow-up search of the area around the throne, which turned up nothing more of note, the companions retraced their steps and headed back down the corridor to the west, the light of one of Cal’s spells guiding their steps.
CoopersPale
First Post
Just saving you from falling off the first page Lazybones.
Still reading. Still Love yer werk
I love the way you've been slowly killing all the "peripheral" characters....
Only Elly remains...
hehe
cheers
Bludgeon
Still reading. Still Love yer werk
I love the way you've been slowly killing all the "peripheral" characters....
Only Elly remains...
hehe
cheers
Bludgeon
Lazybones
Adventurer
Bludgeon said:
Heh-- you guys sure are bloodthirsty!
I have to admit, I took a certain gruesome pleasure killing off some of the "redshirts." (It was easier when they were nameless sailors, though... harder to kill off an established character) Thanks for the praise, and here's the final chapter of Book III...* * * * *
Book III, Part 33
The final corridor ran deeper into the island for about fifty yards before slanting upward into a difficult but manageable ascent. The walls of the passageway were smooth, but did not bear the mark of tools. Lok commented that it might have been formed by volcanic action long ago.
“We must be nearing the surface,” Benzan commented, and in fact they could shortly see a glow up ahead, which resolved into a larger space opening up off the corridor up ahead.
The companions slogged up the final stretch of sloping passage to emerge into a large natural chamber, rather smaller than the cavern where they’d fought the kopru but significant nonetheless, perhaps eighty feet across at its widest point. In the rear of the place the uneven natural rock gave way to worked stone, including a cracked dome through which several bright shafts of sunlight could be seen filtering down from above.
“Looks like some sort of temple,” Delem commented, as they cautiously made their way into the cavern. As they drew nearer they could see that the worked area was full of cracks and debris, with the walls themselves jutting at uneven angles and the floor rising or falling a few feet as the massive stone blocks stood sundered by some ancient calamity.
“It looks like it was built someplace above, then fell into this cavern at some point,” Lok said, as he analyzed the pattern of the damage. On reaching the edge of the area covered by the dome they could see that several passages had once led off from the chamber, all of which now appeared to be completely choked by rubble.
“It’s nice to see sunlight again,” Dana said, and Elly, standing beside her, added her assent.
“What’s that back there?” Cal said, gesturing toward a recessed area in the back of the chamber. A deep alcove had apparently weathered the damage wrought to the temple better than the dome area, and they crossed the cracked stone to that space.
The alcove was a deep quarter-sphere that extended perhaps thirty feet back. Thin wisps of plant growth that had grown out of the cracks in the dome above formed a gossamer-like curtain that left its far end draped in shadows. The stonework here was subtly different, the curving walls of the alcove fashioned from interlocking reddish bricks that had managed to maintain their overall integrity against the passing of time. And in the rear of the place…
“The Well of Worlds, I gather,” Benzan said.
The Well was a portal, a familiar sight to those with knowledge of the arcane secrets of Faerûn. It was fashioned in the shape of an archway, perhaps ten feet tall at its apex, with nothing but a blank wall of featureless black stone beyond it. The arch itself was difficult to identify, its gray-green material not quite metal, not quite stone. It resembled slightly the material used in the chain shirts they’d taken from the pirates they’d defeated on one of the smaller islands, mail that Elly still wore.
“Well, now what do we do?” Benzan asked, but Cal was already approaching the archway, walking carefully as though each step might spring a deadly trap. No dangers presented themselves, however, and the others watched as the gnome examined the arch and the black stone beyond. He summoned a magical light to illuminate the area, but did not touch anything as of yet.
“Lok, tell me what you think,” the gnome finally said.
The genasi approached, and like Cal gave the arch a careful examination. “Strange,” he said. “I cannot tell what it is made of.”
“Delem, can you detect for magic?” the gnome said. As the sorcerer approached, however, Benzan shrugged and walked up to the other side of the archway, and reached out and touched it. Cal cringed, but nothing terrible happened to the tiefling—this time.
“Hmm… feels a little warm,” Benzan said.
“One of these days—” Dana began, but she was interrupted as a voice filled their minds, sounding clearly as if someone was right in front of them, speaking in a soft voice.
I am the Well of Worlds, it said. I am the bridge between worlds, a guidepost on the border between realities. Speak, traveler, and state your destination.
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere,” Benzan said. “We wish to return to Faerûn,” he said aloud.
“We might want to be a little more specific,” Cal said. “Where exactly do we want to go back to?”
The companions exchanged a glance, and realized that they hadn’t really considered that question, each of them focused more on getting here, and back to their own world, than the precise destination.
“Our original destination was Chult,” Lok said.
“Yes, but Ruath’s dead,” Benzan pointed out. “Even if we could find whoever it was she was going to meet, her message died with her.”
“We could return to the Western Heartlands,” Delem suggested. “Elturel, or Baldur’s Gate, or anyplace else we wanted to visit.”
“Anywhere would be fine, as long as it’s home, and not this place,” Elly said.
“Why don’t we just return to Baldur’s Gate, and then we can discuss where we want to go from there,” Benzan said. “And maybe Lady Beldarin can do something for Ruath.”
The companions nodded at the tiefling’s unselfish suggestion. Once he’d gauged everyone’s assent, Cal turned to face the arch. “Gateway, we wish to return to our home plane, to the continent of Faerûn on the world of Abeir-Toril. Please take us to the city of Baldur’s Gate, on the Sword Coast of western Faerûn.”
The portal was silent for a moment, and then each of them could feel a faint touch on the edges of their mind, as if the sentient gateway was scanning their thoughts for information about their destination.
You seek to travel to an alternative prime material plane, the voice finally told them. It is difficult to bridge the gap between primes, more difficult even than reaching the outer planes… Your own link to this place can help guide your path, but I cannot assure that you will find the exact destination that you seek.
The blank stone face beyond the arch grew insubstantial as they watched, and the black stone was replaced by a swirling pattern that resembled wisps of reddish fog caught in a slight breeze. Each of them could feel the energies trapped inside the portal as it came alive, causing their flesh to prickle with goosepimples.
The way is open. Each of you must choose whether to venture the path.
“Well, what do you think?” Benzan asked them.
Cal regarded the mists intently. “Ruath isn’t here,” he said, “but maybe we can still call upon Tymora’s luck on this one. She always said that the Lady never listened to her, and her own luck faltered at the end, but the rest of us won through, in part due to the intervention of the Lady through the agency of her cleric’s hand. And maybe, somewhere we can’t yet understand, Ruath’s keeping an eye on us, lending us a little luck in our time of need.”
He turned and met the gaze of each of them in turn, confirming his own thoughts.
“Let’s go home.”
He stepped through the arch, the others following close behind, the mists swallowing up each of them in turn until silence fell again over the ruined temple on the Isle of Dread.
END OF BOOK III
* * * * *
Lazybones
Adventurer
The End, for now...
Well readers, that’s the end of another chapter of Travels through the Wild West. Thanks for all your comments and kudos on the story thus far. I’ve had a lot of fun writing it. While I’ve already plotted out a lot of the plot for the upcoming Book IV, I’m going to take a bit of a breather before continuing the story. Somehow, between lazy weekends and slow days at work, I’ve written 140,000 words in just three months (a goodly sized novel)! It’s time for a break. I can’t say if it’ll be a few weeks or a little longer before I start up the next thread (I’ve got a few other projects I’d like to revisit first, and I want to send out a few more submissions of my novels), but keep posting comments, and I’ll stop by periodically to check on my favorite Story Hour threads as always. And if you just can’t get by without my story updates, then check out my webpage (link in my sig), where I’m serializing my first novel, The Trials of Alderan (you’ll also find archived files of the entire TttWW story thus far).
Just as a final teaser, here’s some plot ideas that I’ve been working on for the future:
Game on!
Ken
Well readers, that’s the end of another chapter of Travels through the Wild West. Thanks for all your comments and kudos on the story thus far. I’ve had a lot of fun writing it. While I’ve already plotted out a lot of the plot for the upcoming Book IV, I’m going to take a bit of a breather before continuing the story. Somehow, between lazy weekends and slow days at work, I’ve written 140,000 words in just three months (a goodly sized novel)! It’s time for a break. I can’t say if it’ll be a few weeks or a little longer before I start up the next thread (I’ve got a few other projects I’d like to revisit first, and I want to send out a few more submissions of my novels), but keep posting comments, and I’ll stop by periodically to check on my favorite Story Hour threads as always. And if you just can’t get by without my story updates
, then check out my webpage (link in my sig), where I’m serializing my first novel, The Trials of Alderan (you’ll also find archived files of the entire TttWW story thus far).Just as a final teaser, here’s some plot ideas that I’ve been working on for the future:
- Lok returns home to the North, and is drawn to some fell happenings in the Underdark, happenings that are tied to the fate of the urdunnir…
- Cal returns to his home in Waterdeep, to learn that one of his adventuring relatives has recently vanished in a certain famous dungeon under that city…
- Delem’s rapidly growing power drawns some unwelcome attention from a certain group in the East that likes to wear red…
- Benzan begins to unravel the mystery of his ancestry (and don’t forget about that statue he carries—I haven’t!)…
- The church of Cyric, the shades, that cleric of Mask we met at the very beginning, the Purple Dragons of Cormyr, the Harpers… all have roles to play in what’s to come, as the adventurers rise into the ranks of the truly powerful…
- Elminster and Drizzt Do’Urden will NEVER appear in the pages of TttWW!
- And as for the romantic triangle of Dana, Delem, and Benzan… well, you’ll see!
Game on!
Ken
Thorntangle
First Post
Thank you, Lazybones, for your prodigious efforts in bringing us this storyhour. I look forward to your future projects and the continuation of the Travels Through the Wild West.
Kudos to you!
Kudos to you!
I want to add my thanks, and say that I do feel as though I've come to the end of a book, a book I enjoyed so much I was disappointed when it ended. I eagerly await the next book, and I want to say again how much I enjoy your rich description, and terrific writing style. This is the only story hour I read religiously, and I guess I will have to browse during your well deserved break. Thanks so much, this was a wonderful story.
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